


Second First Times

by nevereatdirt



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, M/M, Mentions of Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevereatdirt/pseuds/nevereatdirt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Orphanos Ampora.  You are thirty five years old.  You are a widower.  You are a father of two wonderful boys.  And for the first time in years, you are completely and utterly alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a short one-off thing but then I did that thing I do. Also sorry for the lack of updates and smut lately guys! Christmas is a hectic time of year when you're a poor knitter/crocheter that makes all their gifts! So that's my excuse. This is probably going to be the last fic of the year, so I hope that it's a good way to go out!!

With a soft sigh you sit at your desk. It's been a  _long_  fucking day and you are not ready for another one yet. But your job is... Strangely rewarding, though you feel like you're missing something. You have your sons, though their mother has long since passed away, and you have your job. That's it. That's what the great Orphanos "Dualscar" Ampora has been reduced to. Countless hours of intense work, and a few hardly adequate hours for his children.

But on this Friday night, with your elder son off at his girlfriend's and the younger at a friend's house, you realize that you haven't had any time to yourself in... In years.

So you pack your terrible leather briefcase and go down to the first floor in the express elevator, before you walk to your house. It's close by and, even this late at night, no one will bother you. You may be a respected business man and the youngest CEO that your company, or rather your grandfather's company, has ever had, but you're still an intimidating figure with your scars and stature. But when you reach your empty house, you feel a sense of dread.

It isn't a sense that someone else is there. No, it's the sense that there is  _no one_  there and that is purely terrifying to you. Once inside, you set your briefcase in your office and go upstairs to change into something a little less stiff. The realization hits you that, eleven years after your wife's death, you should go out. You should try to have some  _fun_. And that's something that you haven't done since you were in college. Since you'd first met Debra. Since your youth.

You look into the mirror and see the greying patches in your hair at your temples and in the front. It had happened first when you were in your early twenties and you'd fought it tooth and nail. But Debra, dear, sweet Debbie, had told you that it made you look distinguished. That it made you look less like a boy and more like a man. And she was right. She was always right, your Debbie.

But she isn't alive anymore, so you tuck those thoughts to the back of your head. It hasn't gotten any easier, but it's gotten a little less painful. With a sigh, you fix your hair, noting that it might need a cut soon, before you go back downstairs. You look online at the club life in your city. It all makes you feel old. You're only thirty-five. But you feel ancient when you see the pictures of people at the height of youth in these clubs. With a sigh you decide to just have your driver take you to downtown and go from there. You've got the money for it after all, and you know that with enough money and a good enough face, the world is your oyster.

And after a short ride, you can feel the thrum of bass in your chest from all of the clubs around you. You can hear the sounds of drunken twenty-somethings and smell the sex in the air. You're out of your element, but at the same time everything just feels so familiar. So comfortable. You pick a club without looking at the name and stand for a little while, feeling old and out of place amidst the dancing and undulating college students, pressed together in a mass of touch and ultra-sensation.

It's obvious to you that some of them aren't just drunk. Some of them are most definitely on  _something_  and you take it upon yourself to assume that it's ecstasy. Though you've never tried it, you'd heard so much about it in your youth and even now. About how it makes you want and how it just makes everything feel more real.

But you're not here to want or feel. You're here to numb and scar yourself. To drown your despairs as you're surrounded by others. And this club... It suits you just fine. You go to the bar and order a double scotch on the rocks while you sit on an unused stool. The bartender hands it to you and gives you this  _look_. As if he's asking what you're doing here. Why someone so  _ancient_  would be out and amongst all of the young and beautiful people.

Or maybe he thinks that you're some kind of villain. It's not a difficult conclusion to make. The scars marring your face and your severe hairline make most people think that you'd be better suited to a life of crime than to a life as a CEO with a cushy job. But you pay this boy no mind and take a long drink.

Several drinks later and you feel yourself being pulled to the dance floor by someone. You don't catch their name or even their face but you're drawn in the undulating sea of bodies and can feel boys bumping and grinding against you. But one catches your attention. He's tall and slender with grace you rarely see, but he's not letting anyone near him. It's almost as if he's too good for the crowd. Too good for this club. So you think that you should try to make your move. You haven't really been with a man before. Once in high school you'd kissed another boy and just wanted to keep going. To feel how his lips would feel against every inch of your skin and how every inch of his tasted. But that was half a lifetime ago and you had long since put it up to a youthful indiscretion.

Here and now you feel the urge to reach out and touch him. Like he has a magnetic pull drawing you to him. Like he was everything your body had been craving all these years. So you move close to him and, boldly, you rest your hands on his hips. "Hello there." Your voice is low and deep, a purr in his ear.

You can feel him shudder just ever so slightly. Feel him move back against you just enough to tease. With a soft voice and an even softer lisp, he answers. "Sup, big guy?" He turns his head ever so slightly and you notice that he's wearing an rectangular pair of glasses that fame his narrow face.

In all honesty you can't help but to grin when he calls you  _big guy_. You're tall and strong, but you've always been that way. He's taller than you by about two inches, but he still feels so small next to your thick frame. "You here alone?" You suddenly feel like a huge creep as you hit on this guy whose name you don't even know. Who's face you haven't really seen.

He leans back against you and you can feel his shoulder blades jutting even through his button-up. "Yeah. My friends left me here. Guess they thought it would be funny." He chuckles humorlessly and you pull him a little closer. Both of you are moving to the same beat, though it's one much slower than the one playing in the club. "You?"

You lean your head against his shoulder. "Came alone. It's been a while for me." You feel your hands moving around to his front and touching him. You're not sure why. You're not completely drunk yet, but you're tipsy. You're tipsy enough to do as you please, but not enough to not know that you're doing it.

The feeling of his diaphragm moving as he breaths under your hands is a strangely comforting sensation. "What? Afraid the missus will catch you out with some college boy?" He chuckles and puts his hands on yours.

"No missus here. Not anymore."

There's a pause before he speaks. "Are you divorced?"

A sigh and you bury your face against his neck, taking in his sweet, probably natural scent. "Widowed."

"Oh." His voice is soft and airy, just hints of regret for his question in his tone. "What happened?"

You growl softly, lips close to his skin. "I'm not here to talk about that right now."

He lets out a shaky sigh at your growl and turns around, mismatched eyes meeting yours for the first time. "Then what are you here for, big guy?" He wraps his arms around your neck, resting long, bony fingers against your shoulders

You move your hands so that they're on his lower back while you two move to the beat of the new song playing over the loud speakers. It's slow and there are at least a dozen other couples in this position, but the two of you may be the tallest of them all. "Who's to say I have a reason for being here? Maybe I just like looking at what I can't have?" You grin at him, eyes half lidded and head tilted ever so slightly, as if you're daring him to lean in first. Daring him to make that first move while you snare him in a trap.

"Oh?" He presses close, one leg moving between yours while a hand traces deft shapes through the thin fabric of your shirt. "And just what is it that you think you can't have." He smirks, showing slightly crooked teeth that don't mar his otherwise elegant appearance. You aren't sure why he strikes you as particularly elegant, though. He's long and lanky. More like a heron or a crane than a model. But something about him...

"There's a lot of things I can't have." You smirk right back at him, showing off your own, unnaturally straight teeth. "But right now? I feel like I'm the oldest one in here."

He shrugs a narrow shoulder. "You probably are. You're probably at least ten years older than most of the kids in here. Maybe even more than some of them getting in with fake IDs. But does that stop you from wanting the ones that are older?" He leans in even more and you can smell the faint traces of alcohol on his breath.

"And just how old are you, legs?" You haven't gotten his name. You truly hope that he won't just kick you for calling him that, but it seems like he's drunk enough not to care.

"Does it matter?" His voice is playful and his lips barely an inch from yours.

You don't close the distance. "It does if you wanna come home with me tonight." A bold move on your part, but you don't care. You want him. You want all of him. And you don't even know his fucking name.

You hear a soft moan and he moves his knee for the first time since he'd put it between your legs. "I see you're already ready to take someone home, hm?" He touches his nose to yours. "It could be me. But aren't you even going to buy me a couple drinks first?" He laughs softly and you can feel every puff of air from his lips. Every inhale and exhale as if you are somehow more highly attuned to this than anything else in the world.

"Do you want me to?"

He shakes his head. "No." He leans in and finally kisses you briefly. "And just so you know, I'm twenty-eight. I thought that  _I_  was the oldest on here tonight."

You lean in and close the gap again, relishing in the softness of lips. It's something that you haven't felt in over a decade. You've missed it more than you'd ever imagined possible.

With a sigh you pull back, smiling in disbelief, your eyes scanning his face while he stares back at you, porcelain face and mismatched eyes almost like a mask of perfection until he speaks. "You wanna get out of here?"

Your reaction and its immediacy almost startles you. "Yes. Yes please I want to get of here." He lean in and kiss him again, feeling the gentle give and pull of his lips. You're surprised when his tongue darts out, tracing against your lips, but you part your lips and move against him, more unpracticed than you'd first realized.

He moves his tongue, dragging it across your soft palette as he pulls away from you. "Let's go. Now." He moves his arms away and grabs your hand, pulling you through the club toward the door. He stops when you're under the street lights and smirks. "Wanna get a taxi? Or did you walk here?"

You shake your head, phone already in hand and text sent to your driver to pick you up. "My driver will be here soon."

He whistles, impressed and leans against you. "You must be pretty loaded if you've got a driver." He nods, looking at you sidelong.

You shrug. "I came by it honestly at least." You sling an arm over his shoulders, not sure what else to do while you wait for your car. But when it pulls up, more quickly than you'd anticipated, the two of you get into the car.

Once you're inside and moving, you lean over and join your lips together again, fingers moving through his hair and tongue teasing at his mouth. He responds with gusto, soft sounds coming from his throat and his lithe body pressing against yours. You've never felt like this. Not even when you'd done anything like this with Debbie, but you push all thoughts of her and her femininity to the very back of your mind. Instead you lose yourself in this stranger's scent, and his sweet taste on your lips and tongue.

For a moment you consider asking his name, to know who he is and assuage your strange guilt. But you don't. You simply keep your lips and tongue moving against him and turning all of your attention to  _him_. Right now he is the center of your world. He is your everything. A shining beacon and a nameless God.

His sounds arouse you in such a way that you're almost ashamed of yourself. But soon he flips on top of you and is pinning you down. No one has ever pinned you down outside of your mind, and the way his weight rests against you makes you let out a pathetic noise that you didn't even know you were capable of. His solid weight is such a strange sensation against your arousal, but watching his lithe body moving, even clothed, is entrancing.

Soon you feel the car lurch to a stop and he slides off of you and gets out of the car, grinning at you as he stands in the cold night air. Movements hampered by shock, you stare at him for a moment before sliding out of the car and standing next to him. He puts his hands on your hips and kisses you gently. "Let's go inside, big guy."

You nod and start to lead him inside but first you turn to him, gripping his hands. "Orphanos."

He stares at you, mouth agape, in confusion. "Or what now?"

You chuckle and shake your head. "My name. It's Orphanos."

He grins up at you as you stand on a step just above him. "Sionn."

The name seems to fit him. You'd heard it in your childhood when you lived in the old country. "And a fox you are, my fair lad." You lead him into the house and toe off your shoes. He does the same and you take him quickly to your master bedroom, ignoring the rest of the house. As soon as you're there with your back to the door, he pins you to it, taking the initiative to press deep kisses to your lips.

The sensation has your legs turning to jelly and you grip at his thin frame. He's not much taller than you, and he weighs so much less, but he's strong and he knows what he's doing. Every movement makes you feel as if you were a teenager again, touching and experiencing lust and longing for the first time without knowing how to get the release you want. Without knowing why these primal desires were seeping through to your extremities. You just lean into his kisses and let his tongue and lips ravish your mouth.

But he pulls back and moves away, sitting on the edge of the bed. He takes off his glasses and puts them on your bed side table before he starts to undress and throw his clothes to the side. After a second's thought, you pull of your shirt and toss it aside moving to the bed to sit next to him, but he rolls so that he's on top of you and presses soft and gentle, almost  _teasing_  kisses to your chest and neck.

He moves lower, eventually reaching your hip bone and sucking a dark mark onto it and causing you to let out a low moan and put your fingers into his hair. He looks up at you, squinting with his mismatched eyes to see you and it makes him even more attractive. But as he stares you feel him fumbling with your button and your fly and he starts to pull your pants down, mouthing you through your boxer-briefs.

Your back arches off the bed and you keen, unused to the sensation and the heat. His mouth envelops your tip through the fabric and you're left a shuddering mess while he's barely getting started. He pulls you from the opening of your underwear and actually takes the head of your horribly stiff cock into his mouth.

It doesn't take long for you to come. You feel like a young teen getting sucked off for the first time. But your orgasm is hot and long and you can't believe that he still has your tip in his mouth. Is still milking you. And when he looks up at you with come dribbling past his lips, he pokes his tongue out and licks it back into his mouth. You'd be lying if you told anyone that the action wasn't unbearably hot. Or that you wanted to see him do more things like that. Or that you wanted to see what he'd look like thrusting into you or riding you hard.

But none of that matters because, in this moment, you're spent. You've had too much to drink and your sexual stamina isn't what it used to be when you were in your twenties. You're not even sure that you have any stamina anymore. You haven't even  _touched_  yourself in years.

Your thoughts are interrupted by soft sound of a sigh and a weight resting on top of you. "That was faster than I thought it would be there, OR."

You smirk, eyes clouded over as you settle into your refractory period. "Sorry. Been a while."

He leans in and presses a kiss to your lips and you can taste your own come. No one's ever kissed you after doing that. Not even your wife. And you feel like the taste is a sign of something yet to come. Of things you have to do yet. He nuzzles against you and wraps long arms around your solid frame and, somehow, it makes you feel like a child being protected. It's so comforting to have him here. Despite the failed one night stand, you're glad that you brought him home. Glad that he's here now. As you drift off to sleep, you can't hope but to feel happy that there will be someone in your bed when you wake the next morning.


	2. Chapter 2

When you wake you have a terrible headache and fee like you're going to throw up. You  _definitely_  had too much to drink last night. But you still remember everything. Every touch, every look, every word. And you shiver some when you realize that you're alone in your bed. You sit up, looking around as if you're going to see Sionn somewhere. As if he's just hiding and if you look hard enough, you'll find him hiding somewhere.

But his clothes and glasses are nowhere to be seen and on your bedside table there's a glass of water and some Tylenol. At least he's courteous. You take two of the Tylenol and drink the whole glass of water. You should have been drinking it last night. Should have acted your age. But you didn't and there's no changing that. And on a second inspection of the bedside table you see a folded scrap of paper with  _OR_  written on it in delicate handwriting. So you pick it up and read it.

_Orphanos,_

_I had a great night. Thanks for picking a skinny nerd at the club. I would've expected you to have more wild tastes, but you acted so young when we kissed. I want to see you again, if you're up for it. My number's in your phone now. You really should put a more difficult lock on it, else someone less nice than me will get a hold of it._

_Sorry for leaving before you woke up, but I had something that I had to do this morning so I hope that you'll forgive me. I'll see you soon, I'm sure._

_Yours,_

_Ψionn_

You smile a little and look in your phone. Sure enough he's in there. And you've never seen a number with so many fucking  _twos_  in it. But you set your phone down and go take a shower, headache starting to dissipate some, though your nausea is still prevalent.

After a long, hot shower and a disgustingly greasy breakfast, you're beginning to feel human again. But the nagging feeling that you should  _call_  Sionn. That you should let him know that  _yes yes yes you want to see him_. You know that you do. That you want to feel his lips against you and his heat on top of you and his solid weight against you.

You groan and rest your head on the table. The thought of him has gone straight to your so easily affected groin and you reach down to take care of the problem but soon remember that you have important work to be done. You hate working on Saturdays, even more so when you've drunken yourself into a painful hangover. With all of your adult responsibilities hanging over your head, with the exception of your sons who will be staying with their friends until Monday after school,, you lift yourself from the table and move into your office to do your work. Luckily the conference call won't have video this time so you just stay in what little clothes you have on and conduct your business with aplomb.

After the meeting, which has left you feeling drained and in need of some better contact today than  _that_ , you pick up your phone and turn it in your hands. After several, long minutes of debate, you unlock it and call him, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine.

It rings and you aren't sure that he's going to answer. Was he still doing whatever it was that he'd had to leave to take care of? He shake a little as it keeps ringing and you're beginning to feel like a desperate school girl, wanting to hear back from the boy that had pinned her. But the phone just keeps ringing and, when you're  _convinced_  that you should just hang up and that he was just trying to give your old heart some hope, the dial tone stops and you hear his voice. "Hello?"

You can't help the grin crossing your lips or the awestruck way you're chuckling, but you realize that you'd better say something. "Hello, Si."

He pauses on the other end, as if he's trying to put together just who's on the line, or maybe he's just trying to put a voice to your face. "OR?" He laughs amicably and you hear something in the background close. "Didn't really expect you to call."

You swallow and your chuckling quickly turns to nervous laughter. "Oh? Why not?" You pace around, chilly from your lack of clothes but needing to move, needing the distraction.

"Oh well you just don't strike me as that desperate of a guy, OR." You can here wind. Is he driving? Or maybe just walking.

"Well maybe I am." You suggest it in a playful tone, but really you are a desperate kind of man. So lucky in love in your youth but prone to misfortune and loss in your middle age. "Or maybe I just want to see you again."

"I should hope so, I was beginning to think that you were really just calling to say hello." He snorts and it's such a strange sound in comparison to his voice.

"No. I just don't like how things ended last night." You scratch the back of your head, knowing that it's true. Knowing that it's your fault.

You hear him hum. "And what do you want me to do about it? I'm the one that didn't get to finish, Orphanos. Are you going to pay me back for that?"

You swallow roughly. "Yes. Yes I'll pay you back and so much more..." He slink against the wall, feeling a strange sense of depravity come over you. A sense that, somewhere along the line, you lost your tough, mean facade and that this man had torn it down.

But then you hear something in the background that sounds distinctly like a young boy. You don't even know how old. But younger than your sons. It's not one voice, though. It's  _two_. So distinctly different, but still so similar. And they're talking to Sionn and calling him... Calling him  _dad_. Your realization hits and it's just too cruel, too wretched to be true. "You're married."

He pauses, almost too long, but then his voice comes over the line. "No."

"Then why the  _fuck_  do you have sons?"

"How did you...?" He stops and you can practically hear him telling his boys to quiet down, that he's on the phone. "I guess that that's self evident isn't it?"

"Yeah. I could hear them." You swallow again, this time feeling like a fool.

"We need to get together. Tonight."

"Why?"

"To talk. And to finish what we started." His voice is crisp and matter of fact, like what he's talking about isn't borderline pornographic. Like what he wants isn't a good fuck.

"Fine. Text me your address. I'll meet you there."

"No I'll go to your house. I know the way." You can hear the smugness in his voice and you want to hit him in his porcelain face. Want to bang his head against the wall until it cracks and red drips down his pale face. You hate being lied to and you hate when people are smug. Unless you're the one being smug. Then you simply feel it's your  _right_  as new-age aristocracy. It is deeply apparent that this is all some kind of game for him, but you are determined to beat him at him.

"Fine. Meet me here tonight at five."

"Five, huh? Seems a little early."

"Five or you'll never get to finish."

He sighs and you can imagine that he's rolling those beautiful mismatched eyes. "Whatever. Five. Now I've gotta go, I'll see you in a few hours."

"Yeah. Til then." The line goes dead and all you hear now is your own heart and your breathing. You stand up and just go about your day, calling your sons to make sure that they're fine. The younger is apparently dumbfounded by something and you're not sure what. You're just going to assume it has something to do with one of his friends. Maybe he'd had his first kiss or his first hand job. You honestly don't care but you hope he's not being stupid about anything. The elder is indifferent and snarky as ever. Just like you at that age, you realize with a sigh.

The rest of the afternoon is uneventful until you hear the telltale knock on the door, forcing you to get up and answer it. It's Sionn.

He comes inside and you close the door, but he presses you to it. "Sup, OR?" He grins at you. The same grin from last night. A knowing one that tells you that he still wants you.

But now is  _not_  the time. "You're married." You gaze is accusatory but you see his grin disappear.

"No. I told you already, I'm  _divorced_." He sighs.

"How long?"

"Two years." For some reason he sounds excited about that. You assume it's just relief at being divorced.

"How many kids do you have?"

"Two sons. They're twins. And they're ten years old." He smiles. For some reason you feel like the fact that they're twins is calming to him.

"I have two boys, too. One's sixteen, the other's thirteen." You blink slowly and just stare him in the face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were a guy that I met at a club I didn't think that I'd be coming back." He rests his head on your shoulder. "Please don't think I'm just some weird, married fucker just living a lie. I couldn't manage that. The lie would eat me from the inside."

With a sigh you pick up your arms and wrap them around his waist. "I never expected to want to see a man again. Not like this." You rest your chin on his shoulder. "You're an interestin' kind a guy you know."

He nuzzles into your neck, lips ghosting over your skin. "Can we keep going?" He presses closer to you and you can feel his heat on you. His desire.

And you know that you want to say yes so you pull him close "Yes. But not here. Upstairs."

He pulls from you and you take his hand, pulling him up to your room. He pushes you onto the bed and you, so unused to not being the aggressor, can't help but to feel strangely excited by everything. Caught in your reverie, he brings his lips to yours and you're amazed by how it feels like there's electricity moving through you. By how each movement leaves you feeling ultra-sensitive to his touch.

Fingers trail down your clothed chest and grip at the bottom of your shirt for a fleeting moment before you feel him pulling up and you just instinctively let him peel the shirt off of you. He does the same for himself and, once again, you feel his solid weight and heat on top of your growing erection. It makes you want him to just ride you so you can stare up at him. It makes you want him to keep you down. To pin you to the bed and just take all of your authority.

You've never wanted to be so submissive. To let someone else take control. But now that your life is so meticulously taken care of and your nerves are on their last threads, the only thing you want is not to think. To not have to take control of what's happening in the world.

Before your thoughts can get much further, his hands go back to trailing your chest and his lips tease at your neck. Without the alcohol dulling your senses, everything feels so much more real. The numbness from last night is  _gone_  and it makes every miniscule motion and touch burn against your skin.

It's like he's pure energy on top of you with a weight just from that. And as he moves it's like he's trailing lava across your skin. You aren't sure how you didn't notice this heat last night, but you're so glad that you called him. So glad he left his number.

As he nips at your neck, you let out a low moan and he bites a little harder, making you squirm beneath him. You still aren't used to being pinned down and feeling helpless beneath someone. To wanting him to just have his way with you.

You bring your hands up, though and grip at his thin, arched back. It's surprising how someone so  _small_  and just slender can overpower you like this. Can make you feel so helpless. And how you can love it so. But his pale skin is starting to flush and you realize now that you aren't the only one in desperation now. He wants you too, and that sends a shiver of anticipation through you. It tempts you to just flip the two of you over and to have your way with him instead, but you want him in control. You want him to bring you over the edge.

He trails his lips up your neck and jaw before he meets your lips at last. He tastes heady and strong, and you just want to devour him. To know that only you will taste this.

You aren't sure when you became so desperate, so needy. When all that you wanted to do was to taste him and know him and have him. You've only known him for... No. You don't even really know him. He's an enigma, a puzzle, a lie to you.

You want to catch him. To figure him out. To know his truths from his lies, but you know that you won't. You know that this is probably the last, the  _only_ , time that the two of you will actually have sex. That after this he'll probably disappear. He'll stop answering your calls. And you'll be left alone again.

In the meantime you hold him tightly, refusing to let go at all, in fear that if you do he'll disappear into an ethereal mist.

But he struggles against you and pushes up, looking down at you. "OR. I'm not going to just leave stop holding me so tight." He chuckles as he presses a kiss to your lips so gentle that you can't help but to feel like it's just a dream.

"How did you...?"

"You've been holding onto me like I'm a fucking life line, OR. It was hard not to know." He kisses you again, as if he's reassuring you. "Just let go. I'll stay here."

You nod your head weakly and let your arms fall to your sides. To your chagrin, he gets up. "You said you were stayin' there." You can hear the pathetic sound of your voice. The longing and the near whimpering tone of it.

He frowns at you. "OR. I said I was staying. Just scoot onto the bed and relax you sexy goof."

You scoot back, but can't help but to be entertained by him calling you a  _goof_. For fuck's sake he's twenty-eight. That's not something that you'd expect a man his age to say. "Goof?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Got something against it, big guy?"

You look away from him, already feeling cold with his body heat gone. "No." Your voice is firm. Resolute. You're trying not to feel let down that he's moved away, but you know that your face probably shows it.

You hear him chuckle softly. "I just have to go out and get something from my car. Figure you'll appreciate it more."

You look back up at him, face serious. "If it's what I think it is then there's some in my bedside table."

He shrugs. "I have particular  _tastes_." He gives you a quick wink before grabbing his shirt and running out of the room for a moment.

You're half worried that he won't come back. You're almost more worried that he'll come back with a camera to show the world how pathetic you are. You're paranoid. You have to be.

But you just don't want to be alone anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

You wait for what feels an eternity but you know it's been more like ten minutes. But that still has you worried. What could possibly be taking that long to get from his car? He does though. He comes back. And when he does at last, he pins you to the bed and presses a deep, almost desperate kiss to your lips.

You lean into it it, though. How can you not? The sweetness of his lips is drawing you in. Like a hummingbird to flowers. And it's only now that you realize how much you want to devour him. To take him for your own. You wish that he would let you. That you could keep it to yourself. But in your heart you know that this is just a fling for him. He's young and beautiful. And you aren't. Not anymore.

But his hands move against your still bare skin and you can't help but to have just a glimmer of hope. You move your arms to wrap around him and he just moves his lips away from yours, kissing at your jaw and neck again. And that's when you realize that he's just holding you. Nothing else. It's strange after thinking about just how much you want to fuck him, but he squeezing you tightly as he can.

"Sionn?" You rub at his back, feeling the fabric of his t-shirt under your fingertips. "What's wrong?"

"Sorry. My ex called."

"Oh." You pause, unsure of what to say, but knowing that you need to fill this void. "What did she want?"

He squeezes. "Nothing. She's just hard to talk to."

You sigh and pull him back with you onto the bed, settling onto your side. "Just sleep a little next to me, Si. Calm down."

"No. I mean, yeah I'll calm down. But she just leaves me in this fucking  _mood_." You sigh and start to doubt that this man is twenty-eight. But before you can say anything he's moved and is kissing you again. "Help me forget. Just for a little."

You let out a soft sound and don't even debate about his request. "Of course."

He doesn't take long to amble off of you again, stripping himself and grabbing the bag that he'd grabbed from his car. He throws it on the bed next to you and rests his hands on your shoulders. "Lay back." His voice, which had been so soft, takes on an  _edge_. It's so strange to hear it. If you have to put a word to it you'd have to describe it as electronic. It's like, somehow, he's controlling you just with his voice.  _And you love it_.

You move back, barely thinking about your actions, and he's moving towards you. He's so lithe and lean that it almost makes him look like a predatory cat. He kisses your knee and crawls even further and grabs his bag, pulling out a bottle of lube. You smirk at him. "You had to go out to your car to get  _lube_?"

He snorts and shakes his head. "Not just lube. Honey-flavored lube." He winks at you as he rubs you through your pants before undoing the button and pulling them down, doing the same with your boxer-briefs. He hums when he sees you completely stripped. "You look a little more excited than last night." He trails his finger from your navel to your base, causing you to let out a soft sound.

With a chuckle, he opens the bottle in his left hand and pours some into his right. He sets the bottle down and slowly runs his hand up your shaft. The sensation isn't as overwhelming as last night, but you still can't help the whimpers and groans coming out of you. It doesn't take long for him to take his hand from you and replace it with his mouth.

Though it isn't overwhelmingly hot like it was last night, you're still left moaning as he works his lips and tongue against you. You stare down at him and meet his eyes, still covered by his rectangular glasses. Despite them, his gaze is even more intense than it was last night. You can hear him making soft, pleased noises around your tip as he moves. But you put your hand in his hair and give him a look. "Stop."

He pulls off with a pop and stares up at you, lips already swollen and red. "What?"

"Let me." You sit up, cock wanting more attention, but you know that you should give him attention. "I want to."

He shakes his head and pushes you back down. "No. I'm going to suck you off and them I'm going to fuck you." His voice still feels like there's a power to it. Like his words are all you need to come over the edge or to even to let someone else just take control of you.

With a soft sound, you realize that that's what he's going to do. "Okay." Your voice hitches as he moves back down, lips and tongue moving against you roughly as he traces shapes down your shaft.

He licks and sucks until he's reached your tip again and takes it into his mouth. He moves expertly and you feel like taking him home and even calling again has put you in over your head. But there's no going back now as you feel him humming around you. With a low moan, your back arches, but his slender hands are on your hips, holding you down. You know, logically, that his strength isn't nearly enough to hold you down. You're a big man. But he keeps you down and the feeling is purely exhilarating.

He moves with grace and poise, even with a cock in his mouth. His right hand, still with a fine layer of lubricant on it, moves from your hip to your base, stroking it before he moves lower and rubs at your testes. The touch makes you keen and you can  _feel_  the chuckle coming from him as his hand moves lower. He moves along and soon his finger is tracing at...

"What the fuck are you doing?" You raise your head and speak through a panting voice.

He pulls off of you slowly and with a loud pop. "What does it look like?" He smirks and you can feel a dark flush spreading across your cheeks. You've never had anything like this done to you, but you  _do_  know what he's doing.

"I'm not a bottom, Sionn." You swallow and squirm a little as his hand doesn't move away from you.

"Oh? Have you ever tried?"

You sigh and sink back a little. "No."

He presses a little harder, not quite pushing past the opening, but hard enough to make grunt at the pressure. "Why not try something new?" He grins, flashing you the most devilish grin you could ever imagine. "If you don't like it then you never have to do it again."

You swallow back the pain while you think, but finally you nod. "Fine. Have it your way." With a huff you tilt your head to the side. "If I tell you to stop though, you'd better fuckin'  _stop_."

He chuckles as he leans back down, pressing a kiss to your tip. "Of course, OR. Of course. Just relax."

You suck in a breath at the kiss, but you're sill feeling snarky. "What do you want me to do? Relax and just  _cough?_ " You smirk at him.

He rolls his eyes and picks up the bottle of lube. "You're a special kind of asshole, you know that? No. Just fucking relax. It's sex not a fucking prostate exam." He snorts and just shakes his head. You're glad that you entertained him, even for a little.

You feel the pressure leave and just watch him as he puts more lube onto his hand. It occurs to you that he probably knows what he's doing. He's obviously done this before. Then again so have you. Just never with a man. And you've never been the one to be entered. But once the bottle of lube is set down you take a deep breath as he touches you, trying to relax.

His finger traces your for a little while and, despite the pressure, you eventually relax. It's painful when he presses in, but only at first. It becomes more  _uncomfortable_  than anything else as he keeps going. But you even get used to that as he whispers reassurances to you.

You feel broken and dirty letting him do this somehow, but at the same time it all feels so right. Just as you think this though, he presses in another finger and you hiss as he does. It stretches and burns and you aren't entirely sure how some men do this. But you're strong enough for this so you just breathe deeply and  _relax_. That's the key to this, right? Relaxing? But soon you forget about relaxing as his long fingers move in deeper.

He rubs against a spot inside you and something flashes through your head telling you that it's your prostate. And it feels like nothing you've ever felt, causing you to let out a soft moan. But he moves his fingers away and even with as short a time as he'd been there you sigh at the loss. It isn't long before his fingers rock back in and then out again and you realize that he's  _trying_  to get you to moan again. He wants you to be putty in his agile hands and you are so much more than willing to comply at this point.

As you get used to the stretch and pull around his fingers, he kisses at your thigh and you can see him whispering to you, though you aren't sure if he's still saying anything. All that you can really hear are your own moans and the throbbing of your heart.

But when you feel him inserting another finger, you realize that he was telling you to relax again. As you hiss, he moves into you again and you can see the look of concentration on his face. He's searching for your prostate again and he finds it. It seems like this time he knows what he's doing with his fingers as they spread inside of you, stretching you even more.

After a few minutes, though, you lose all sensation from him as he pulls his fingers out. He wipes his hand on your thigh and you can't help to be more than a little disgusted at the action, but you're more disappointed than anything. "Feeling a little unloved, OR?"

You jump a little at his voice as he watches you. "What?"

He stands up and throws his glasses back on your bedside table before pulling a foil packet out of his bag and opening it to slide a deep purple condom onto his length. "You just look like you're feeling empty is all." He opens the lube again, rubbing it onto his latex-coated cock. "You'll be fulling full again soon, OR. Don't worry." He gets back on the bed and positions himself between your legs as he drapes one over his shoulder.

You let out a shaky breath as you watch him position himself and then you feel it. It's  _tight_. A burning pressure inside of you, and you just want to scream.

So you do.

You let out a loud scream, but you're amazed at your own voice. It's low as per usual, but the sound is not what you'd expected. More pleasure than agony and that seems to spur Sionn to press in further.

The pressure is so much for you, even though he moves slowly and presses kisses to your knee and thigh, You almost want him to just shove forward and to get it over with. But you want to enjoy this stretch and pull on your muscles.

You tilt your head back and debate for a split second about pressing into him, but that's when he moves forward. Not much, just a fraction of an inch. But it's just enough to hit your prostate again and this time you can hear yourself  _mewling_. You lose your thoughts as he moves more and then thrusts even harder.

It isn't long before your world is spinning and you can feel pleasure coursing through your system. You can feel yourself clenching and it makes him let out a moan of his own and that has you realizing that he still hasn't gotten to finish.

That's why he came here today, wasn't it? To finish? But here he is, thrusting into you with more fervor than you'd anticipated and you have this feeling that he isn't going to finish.

You think back to everything that you've experienced on the other end of this. Or at least you  _try_. You're finding it rather difficult with a moan slipping from your throat with every thrust, but you start to move against him and try to meet your hips. You rotate and the heat between the two of you in beginning to grow even more. You're finding yourself a whimpering mess but you try to clench when you can and, much to your chagrin, you can feel yourself on the edge.

With a cry of his name, you come white and hot over his chest and your stomach, but that doesn't stop him from moving despite your now over-sensitive ass.

He chuckles at you as you lay, still making soft, pathetic noises. "You didn't let me finish, OR. That's fucking rude."

You whimper as he pulls out, leaving you feeling too hot and too empty and lonely. You motion for him to lay on you and he does. With a groan you pull him into a tight embrace and nuzzle into his shoulder. "Sorry."

He snorts and kisses the side of your head. "You're a pretty fucking pathetic guy, OR. How's a guy like you have a body like yours?"

You grumble to yourself before talking to him. "Hard work an' determination."

He hums and wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back. "Yeah, yeah big guy." He presses another kiss to the side of your head and you're suddenly very self conscious that he's kissing right where your grey has been coming in lately.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

You sigh, feeling yourself pouting. "Don't kiss by my grey hair. It makes me feel old."

He snorts. "Yeah, well fuck that. It makes you look even hotter."

You let go of him and pull his arms off of you before rolling away to the edge of the bed, resting your feet on the ground. "It makes me look old an' you know it. You need to go."

"Go?" You feel the bed shift and feel his head in your lap. "I came here to finish, Orphanos you can at least let me do that." He smiles up at you playfully.

You feel disgusted with yourself. Isn't it obvious? He's so much younger than he'd told you. Twenty-eight? No. He has to be younger than that. He's too pretty. Too boyish. "I told you to go."

He sits up and stares you down. "What the fuck is wrong. You were all gung-ho to fuck and now you're acting like I killed your dog." He furrows his brow and you just want to push him away and pull him towards you at the same time.

"You're just a kid. Get out of here."

He sighs and rolls away from you, pulling his jeans off the ground. Before you can ask what he's doing, he pulls his wallet out and tosses it at you. "Check it." You go to protest but he shakes his head. " _Check_  it."

You sigh and open it up, looking at his license. His birthday was only a few months ago and he is, in fact, twenty-eight. "So you're telling the truth about your age."

"Yeah. And I'm telling the truth about really wanting to get off, too. So... If you don't mind?" He grins at you, almost expectantly and you just roll your eyes at him.

"Fine." You stretch, knowing that you won't be able to do much, but feeling like you can at least get him off. "Lay back."

He moves and lays back on your pillows with a smug look on his face as you settle between his legs. You lean in and, inexpertly, kiss at the base of his cock. You've seen this in real life. You've had this done to you many times and now you finally get to try your hand at it.

The purple condom is still on him and you realize with a cringe that it's been inside of you. With a disgruntled face you pull it off, glad that you'd at least through about it, and kiss his base again before working your way up. Never in your life have you been so glad that your mouth is, as your father once put it, big as a large mouth bass's. And with that in mind, you take his tip into your mouth and set your face determinedly as you watch him.

Giving it an experimental suck, for the first time you see  _him_  shudder and it reassures you that, yes, you're doing something right. So you lap at him with your tongue as you take more of him into your mouth. You can't take much, only a few inches, but it seems to be enough for him. He's so vocal, so much more vocal than you were. But everything that he says is complete nonsense. In a strange way it makes him endearing.

Or at least as endearing as someone can be with their cock in your mouth. But you chuckle as you pull your lips off and lick and suck down the side of his shaft, trying to give him more sensation. You can see him tensing as you do and, as you take his tip back into your mouth and start to bob your head and hand in time, he begins to twitch. His legs spasm and his shouts become louder, more animalistic, before he comes in your mouth without warning.

You gag on it, but you keep your mouth in place, trying to milk him like he'd milked you last night. You swallow what you can and pull off. The two of you keep your eyes locked on each other and you crawl up to him, pressing a deep kiss to his lips. He leans into you and pulls you down to lay beside him.

You aren't sure how much time passes with long, sinewy arms wrapped around you, but when you look up, it's dark outside and you're both tired. You pull him to you tightly and just cling. "Stay with me this time?"

He hums and holds you. "Of course."

Neither of you say anything more before you drift to a calm sleep.

When you wake, you still have the taste of come on your lips and you still have long limbs tangled with yours. You lay there, not wanting to move, until he wakes up, rubbing his eyes. With a smile and a soft kiss to your lips, he gets out of your bed and starts to dress himself.

You sit up and watch him. "You're leaving?"

He looks back at you. "I have to get my boys."

"Oh." You look down, unwilling to admit how disappointed you are by that. "Will I see you again?"

He smirks. "Oh you will, Orphanos." He pulls his shirt over his head. "I think you'll actually be coming to see  _me_  on Wednesday."

You furrow your brow, trying to think when you'd agreed to anything. "Do we... Have a date?"

"In a sense." He chuckles as he picks up his glasses. "Parent-teacher's conference. Wednesday at five."

"What?" You're completely blind-sided and you half hope that he's joking.

"I'm Cronus's tech teacher." He adjusts his glasses. "Sionn Captor."

" _You're_  Mr. Captor?"

"In the flesh. Hope to see you there on Wednesday." He moves over and kisses you again. "But I need to go get my boys."

You swallow. "Wednesday."

"See you then, hot stuff." He ruffles your hair and gathers his things before leaving you.

A few minutes pass while you think about everything that just happened.

You'd slept with one of your sons' teachers.

You have a feeling that the rest of the year might be awkward if you tell him that. But at least you've met someone that can at least see a close future with you.

You get out of bed and go into the bath, starting the water to take a shower.

Eleven years... You sigh and realize that this is the first time in all those years that you've even wanted someone. The first time you've touched or been touched.

With your mind clear you step into the shower and let the warm spray wash over you. This is what you needed. And you hope that, sometime soon, you can see him again.

Even if it is behind a desk while the two of you chastise your eldest.


End file.
